


Drunk Dial

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Childhood Friends, Drinking, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Old Friends, Reunions, Self-Hatred, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: It’s been years since Reader talked to Spencer, but after a bunch of drinks it seems like a really good idea.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75





	Drunk Dial

You know that old phrase, “the one that got away?” I hate that phrase.

It always sounded cruel to me, like it was placing blame on him for leaving. But I didn’t blame him for leaving.

Spencer wasn’t the one that got away; he was the one who was taken away.

If I had to blame someone, I would blame myself. I hadn’t been the smartest or the luckiest. More often than not, I only brought problems. The kind that Spencer Reid never had to deal with.

I was the kid that didn’t understand things quickly, and when I did, I still didn’t do well. I was a low-tier academic if there ever was one. But Spencer never seemed to mind.

He was kind. And patient. Even when I was neither of those things.

The day the teacher told me that he wouldn’t be coming to our class anymore was the last day I ever enjoyed school. He wasn’t the biggest kid, but he was one of the bravest. When kids were mean, he would always find a reason to make me smile.

He was a good person who would do great things. The life he would lead would mean something. I just wouldn’t be a part of it.

For a long time, that was enough for me. Picturing him leading a life of purpose and doing something with that incredible mind of his gave me a purpose. Maybe one day, I would see him again, I thought.

One day, nearly ten years later, I received a letter in the mail from him. It was a simple letter telling me about all the wonderful things he had accomplished, and how his life was going.

It had his number on it, but I never called. I never gave him mine back. I just figured I was a problem that Spencer Reid didn’t need to be burdened with.

Another ten years passed and I found out he had left the area via a news broadcast where it identified him as an FBI Agent working in Virginia.

So I guess I did see him again, in a way. I thought about writing to him, but I didn’t see why it would matter. He probably didn’t even remember me.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Until one day I was going about my normal life, working the normal 9-5 and hanging out with those weird acquaintances that don’t feel entirely like ‘friends’.

They were all talking about one of their recent break ups, comparing the man to all the previous bachelors that ‘got away.’

I was about 5 drinks in and we’d only been here for a couple hours, which was not the best decision I’ve made. But it was so depressing to hear these girls complaining about guys that literally live down the street.

They could call them right now and they would definitely come over.

Meanwhile, I’m stuck with a number that was probably disconnected. I’ve never even checked. I chased the thought down with another drink. You only live once, right?

It was then the conversation shifted, as one of my friends posed a different kind of question.

“Do you guys remember your very first crush?” She asked.

Of course I do. It’d been twenty years, and I still couldn’t shake the thought of that goofy smile and brilliant mind.

God, I need a breath of fresh air.

Stumbling out into the darkness, I sat down on a bench by the road, staring out into the busy streets of Las Vegas. I can almost see him on these streets, walking with me as we go about lives.

It’s not fair to idealize him like this. I don’t know anything about who he is now. But I want to. Is that a bad thing?

I pulled out my phone, staring down at the saved contact. I’d made it through several different phones, but always made sure to keep it. Just in case I was ever brave enough to hit the call button.

Then I thought… you know what? Fuck it.

You only live once, right? I’m going to call him.

Pressing down on the call button, some part of my drunken stupor reminds me that if he’s in Virginia, it’s three hours later for him. Also, I am very intoxicated.

Now panicking, I wanted desperately to hang up. But naturally, my phone screen froze. Because of course it did.

By the time I finally managed to hit end call, the screen shifted to show that he had picked up. Shit!

Like the graceful, responsible, drunk adult I am, I still hung up despite hearing the vaguely familiar voice answering the phone. The regular sounds of the city around me drowned out behind the sound of my heart.

He had picked up. It was actually him. He still had his phone number. Oh, god, I’m going to puke. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

That’s what I thought, anyway, but it was premature, because seconds later he was calling me back.

I considered declining the call, I really did. But that dying romantic in me begged me not to. And it turns out that romantic just really thrives on alcohol and cheap pub appetizers.

“… H-hello?” I said with a shaky voice, biting on the inside of my cheek.

“(Y/n)?” Spencer replied, solidifying one of two possibilities: He still had my contact in his phone, or he actually remembered me.

“Hiiii, Spencer,” I slurred, immediately and forcibly wiping the smile off my face with my free hand. God, I sound like a drunk idiot. I am a drunk idiot.

“… Are you okay?” He sounded confused, which did make sense. Only problem was, I had no idea how to explain this situation to him without sounding like an absolute crazy person.

“Yep. Yeah. I am… doing great. You uh, remember me?” Wait, I already confirmed that. Why am I asking him? I guess I just needed to hear it straight from the man’s mouth.

“Of course I remember you,” he said with an awkward laugh. “Not sure if you remember but, remembering things is uh… kind of my thing.”

I snorted, reaching up to cover my mouth and stifle the rupturing of immature giggles.

“Why are you calling?”

Shit. Make something up. Anything.

“I saw you on the news.” That doesn’t sound vaguely stalkerish at all.

“Oh. When?” Oh, great, my answer is going to be even more awkward. “It was…. A few months ago?”

I rubbed my temple as he went quiet on the other end of the phone. Deciding to try and make this any bit more bearable, I continued, “I saw you live in Virginia now. That’s so… far away. Feels weird.”

I couldn’t see him, but for some reason I could picture the face he was making perfectly. That mess of nostalgia mixed with a smile.

“I’m actually not in Virginia right now, though. Good thing, too, because it’s 2AM there.”

At least that provided some reprieve to my suffering. Well, for a few seconds until I decided I really wanted to torture myself.

“You know what, Spencer?” I said before I could even think to stop myself, “I’m gonna tell you something right now.”

“Okay?” He laughed, and I hoped that he was at least entertained by my drunken nonsense.

“I liked you, you know. Like, a lot.”

There was a long silence after that, and I hit myself for even bringing it up. But then he finally responded, in a somehow completely idiotic manner.

“Thanks… I uh, I liked you a lot, too. I still do, I think?”

He thinks? Wait. He does not understand what I was saying, does he? I sighed, clicking my tongue as I stared up at the large buildings in front of me.

“No, Spencer. I like liked you.” I corrected like the elementary school kid I was when he left, earning a shocked and very high pitched, “Oh.”

“Yeah. And when you left it just… It really sucked.”

“Yeah…” He mumbled, “it did.”

You could actually hear the way his voice was shaking as we both recalled the last days we spent with each other. They were so long ago, but they seemed so close at the same time. I felt that way, anyway.

It was like I could feel his hand taking mine the first time he held my hand. He didn’t like to, he said, because there were too many germs. But when I cried because I was scared he just didn’t want my cooties, he told me there was no such thing.

Then he told me that even if there was, it would be worth it to stop me from crying.

I wanted to cry now, but knew that was pathetic. I bit my tongue until I decided that I was already too far gone to care about being embarrassed.

What’s the chances I see him again, anyway?

“It was like. You were there, every day… and then you were just, poof! Gone.”

Wow, I was being so graceful. I could word this so much better if I wasn’t blind drunk. But I also know I would have never been able to say it.

“That really sucked, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry.” The worst part is he sounded like he really meant it. The same way he sounded when he held my hand.

God, what I would give to have him hold my hand right now.

“Don’t be.” I insisted, worrying the hem of my shirt with my free hand. Thank god he couldn’t see what a mess I looked like.

“You deserved to move on, Spencer. You were always just so… smart, and talented, and cute, and… perfect.” That was too many ands, wasn’t it? Probably should have left the cute one off. But he was cute, and someone needed to tell him, right? Might as well be blind-drunk me.

He probably thinks I’m insane right now. Okay, I need to tone it down. I can do that.

“It’s no surprise you did well for yourself,” I tried to backtrack.

“I’m sure you did, too.” He was just as charming as ever.

He always did this. He made me feel like I was worth something. I guess that’s why I liked him. And why no one else would compare. No one ever saw as much in me as Spencer Reid. Not even myself.

“Not really,” I laughed awkwardly, wrapping my arm around myself in a strange embrace. I hadn’t realized just how cold it had gotten outside.

“I don’t know if you realized, but you were… kind of the best thing about me.”

“That’s not true at all!” He yelled back, causing me to actually tilt my head away from the phone. Jesus, volume wouldn’t make it any more true. But I have to admit, it was that goofy sort of thing that made my heart glow.

“Yeah, it kind of was.” I responded with a solemn smile, still grateful that he couldn’t see my pity party. Yet he was still willing to put up with it and try to cheer me up.

Why was I scared to call him, again?

“Why didn’t you ever write to me?” Ah, right. Because of questions like that. Questions that I had answers to, but I knew he wouldn’t like them.

“Because I didn’t want to bother you with all of my fucking problems.” I finally admitted, kind of relieved to have the weight off my chest.

I had always tried my hardest to keep them away from him. He had enough going on in his life to be distracted by someone like me. My parents had even told me themselves to leave him alone.

So as far as he knew, everything was fine. But it wasn’t. And even though he didn’t know that, he always spent his time to try and make me happy. Looking back, maybe he knew that all along.

“You never bothered me, (y/n).”

Even though he sounded so convincing, I still scoffed, rolling my eyes as I muttered, “Thanks.”

“I mean it!” He said back excitedly, and I swear I could hear him biting his bottom lip like he used to do when he was thinking.

“Honestly? I… missed you. A lot.”

When the words came through the phone, I could hardly believe them. He had missed me? Since when? I mean, I guess he was the one who sent me the letter… That I never responded to.

“It… sucked,” he mirrored my earlier language.

God, wait, why did I ignore him like that? “When I saw it was you calling I…” He started, but then trailed off, leaving the call to retreat back into static. That was all I could hear (other than my pounding heart).

“You what?” I managed to ask, but he immediately changed the subject.

“Nevermind. Are you still in the city?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” I snorted, trying to ignore the fact that he just told me he had missed me at some point over the past twenty years. God, I’m so stupid. Is there any way to salvage this?

This would be so much easier if I was sober.

“Where are you now?” Tell me how the question caught me so off guard that I actually had to turn around to read the name of the bar I was currently sitting outside of.

“Commonwealth.”

“Makes sense.” He laughed, “Figured you would have to be drunk to call me.”

That actually made me laugh, too, and I shook my head as I hung it in shame. “Excuse me, sir. I never said that I was drunk.”

“Will you be there much longer?” At least he didn’t stay on that topic for long . My face was already red enough from the alcohol, I didn’t need to add embarrassment to it.

“I mean, yeah,” I said with the inflection more akin to a question. “My friends are still inside.”

“Good. Stay there.” I was about to ask why, but the next thing I heard was a dial tone.

Did he just… hang up on me?

I stared at my phone for another minute after the end call screen had disappeared. What the fuck just happened?

Going back to my call history, I almost pinched myself to prove that the entire phone call had actually just happened. Glancing down the street, I shook off the weird feeling coursing through me.

Was he… trying to tell me that I should keep drinking and keep dreaming? Because that seemed super unlike him. In fact, I’m almost positive it couldn’t have been that.

Maybe he just meant to stay outside so he could call me back? Maybe it was an accident?

I think I might be overthinking all of this.

Deciding to go with that and try to salvage the rest of the night and plan to deal with the blowback in the morning, I went back inside, prepared to tell the thrilling saga to my friends inside.

Spencer never really was predictable. At least that hadn’t changed.

Thankfully for my liver, I decided to pass on any other drinks when I went back inside. After all, I’m still not entirely convinced the phone call wasn’t just a long fever dream.

My friends had gone up to the bar, leaving me alone at the table to nurse my water. I stared longingly out the window, wondering if a parallel universe existed where I could be transported into one of those cheesy, romantic comedy soap operas that Spencer’s mom used to watch.

But I wasn’t. I was just in some random dive bar in Las Vegas, wishing that I could see a boy I had abandoned twenty years ago.

Oh well. I guess he really was the one who got away… because I let him.

On that incredibly depressing note, I decided that an hour was a long enough time to mope in a public bar without seeming too desperate. Saying goodbye to my friends, I took my time exiting the bar, watching the sea of faces like they would be more familiar somehow.

But there were just strangers.

This time when I exited the bar, I took a deep breath of the cold night air, taking a seat on the bench once more and staring down at my phone. I needed to call an Uber, but my mind kept going back to that call.

Suddenly, my phone started to ring in my hands. I jumped at the loud ringer I had forgotten I turned on in case I got a call in the bar. When the name displayed, I felt the undeniable urge to pinch myself again.

But I didn’t want to waste any more time, having already let it ring a few too many times.

“… Hello?” I spoke unsurely into the receiver.

“(Y/n)?”

That voice was not over the phone.

My phone dropped from my hand, falling onto my lap as I felt my heart jump so far into my throat I thought I might actually throw up. And it wasn’t just from the alcohol.

I turned my head slowly, trying not to get dizzy from the drunkenness that couldn’t be washed away by a few glasses of water.

And there he was. His hair was still just as long, but it had taken on curls, framing his face like a halo of golden brown sunlight.

The way he donned scruff on that beautiful sculpted jaw made him look even older than I knew he was, which was bizarre. I was so used to him looking youthful.

But this was nice, too.

Despite any of the difference, I knew that the man in front of me was, without a doubt, Spencer Reid.

Because although dizzy and inebriated, I wouldn’t mistake those warm brown eyes anywhere.

“Hi,” he said with a broken voice, “it’s… been awhile.”

I stood up, although I don’t really know why. I still hadn’t spoken, just staring at him slack-jawed and confused. Mainly the second thing.

“Sorry, I realized I never told you that I was in Vegas, or that I was coming to the bar I just…”

My chest heaved with hurried, large breaths as I begged myself to say literally anything to this man. He was staring at me like he was the one to be insecure and scared.

“I had to come see you.”

“Why?”

It was the first thing I’d said, and it was clumsy and awkward. He didn’t seem to mind though. He was doing that thing where he fidgets his hands together, trying to find something to do with them.

“Because it felt weird to tell you over the phone.”

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find a way to look more presentable despite being shitfaced.

Clearing my throat, I crossed my arms over my chest in the most defensive position. “Tell me what?”

“You said you like… liked me.” The words sounded so stupid when he said them like that. Stupid, but adorable.

“Yeah, I did.”

It was so hard to imagine that he was really here, and I think a large part of my psyche had just convinced myself that I was making it all up.

“Is that… still true?”

“Yeah.” My voice felt so far away it was like it didn’t belong to me at all.

“Good.”

With one step forward, he showed me just how much taller than me he’d grown over the years. I looked up at him with stars in my eyes, wondering how he managed to somehow look the same but altogether different. “Because I-I… also like… liked you.”

The words sounded like music in his voice, and I bit down on my lip, drawing his attention down from my eyes. I don’t know how the tension between us could be so thick. There were only a few inches, but that was apparently enough for two decades of longing.

“Really?” I asked, mostly to hear him expand on the idea.

“Yeah,” he breathed succinctly, earning a small, toothy grin from me.

“And I… still do.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Luckily, he didn’t take it as an insult. I was just so overwhelmed, staring at this very attractive, very nervous man tell me that he liked me.

“C-Can I… Can I kiss you?”

The question caught me off guard, but I still managed to dumbly nod my head, leaning into his touch as he grabbed my face with both hands, pulling me up to him.

When our lips touched it was nothing like what I imagined it would be. There were no fireworks or angelic singing. Time continued, and the people bustling around in the streets kept walking by.

Somehow, this was better.

Because the firm yet gentle grip on my face kept me tethered to him and this moment, and the butterflies in my stomach were just active enough to tickle my insides without making me sick.

When he tried to pull away, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him back down to me. I didn’t care about the time that had stretched between us.

No matter who he had become, or where he had been, I knew that he was still the clever, brave, and incredibly cute boy I’d fallen in love with in the schoolyard.

He smiled as I finally let him go, and his breathing evened out the longer we stared into each other’s eyes.

“You have no idea…” He started, and I shook my head, recognizing the line from every romance story ever told.

“How long you wanted to do that?” I shot back, earning a nervous laugh. Licking the taste of him from my bottom lip, I laughed with him.

“Trust me. I definitely do.”


End file.
